Where I Belong
by musicprincess1990
Summary: Excerpt: 'His brow furrowed. "What look?" "That look where you're the happiest you've ever been, and you feel like you're unstoppable, because you know you're where you belong."' Rated K plus just in case.


A/N: Just barely made it through finals alive. I swear, I thought I was going to die of sheer exhaustion. :P But it's over now! And huzzah for random inspiration! Enjoy this little bit of fluff!

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><p>He'd done it. At last. As of thirteen hours ago, Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort, and the world was at peace.<p>

Except for one notable exception.

Harry wandered aimlessly about the grounds, avoiding the mass of people still in the throes of an uproarious celebration. It wasn't that he didn't share their joy. In fact, he was relieved to have that whole mess over with. But there was _one_ thing that still weighed heavily on his mind.

Until some months ago, he'd believed himself to be completely in love with Ginny. He was absolutely certain that he would end up marrying the girl, starting a family with her, sending their children off to Hogwarts, the whole package. But now...

He could date the start of his confusion to an evening in November, when he was still in that bloody tent. He'd been keeping watch, when he heard soft music floating out from the tent. After a few moments of deliberation, he'd made his way back, and found Hermione sitting in a chair, next to Ron's bed, crying as she listened to the sad, sweet melody.

Harry had watched her for a while, and as he did, something changed inside him. It was as if... he was seeing Hermione for the first time. She was radiant, even when being dragged down by depression. And he didn't understand why she was letting herself get so upset. Yes, they had lost one of their best friends. But life still went on. They still had each other, didn't they? They weren't completely alone. And here was this strong, confident, incredibly beautiful young woman, and she was crying over a boy as if he was life and death to her.

That was when the burning started. A strange, roaring fire burned in his chest, and spread through him, making him twitch uncomfortably. What was _this_ feeling? It took him a while to put a name to it, but he soon did, and the discovery practically caused him to fall from his chair.

He was _jealous_.

Jealous of Ron, and of the love that Hermione so obviously had for him.

And he was tired of seeing her cry over him.

So he stood, and they danced. And it was the best moment of Harry's life. Because for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. There was no pain, no hatred, no Ron, no Horcruxes, no Voldemort... nothing but a boy and a girl, sharing a dance, and relishing in the warmth and comfort of one another's embrace.

It was absolutely perfect.

And then it ended, and they were forced to go back to reality.

But Harry's feelings for both of his best friends had been irrevocably altered. Now, he couldn't help but feel the slightest spark of anger and hatred toward Ron whenever he saw him, and Hermione... well, his opinion of her hadn't changed much, but he certainly saw her in a new light.

_She's with Ron_, he had to constantly remind himself. _She's happy now_.

As he repeated the mantra in his head yet again, Harry found himself outside the Quidditch pitch. He gazed up at what little remained of the stands (they'd been almost completely burned to the ground), a fond nostalgia creeping into his heart.

_I wonder if my stuff's still there_, he mused. He slowly made his way down to the Gryffindor changing room, and was delighted to find his Quidditch robes and gear still intact. Impetuously, he changed into them, and retrieved one of the new-ish Cleansweeps from the spare broomstick cupboard. A grin spread across his face as he took off from the ground.

The broom was incredibly slow and uncooperative compared to his Firebolt, but it was just nice to be in the air again. Harry did a few loops and spins, and some more complicated moves that he'd only recently learned. He hadn't realized just how much he missed the feeling of the wind rushing against his face, through his hair. And he missed the anxiety of searching for the Snitch, the rush of adrenaline upon finding it, and the thrill of incomparable excitement as his fingers closed around it.

Suddenly remembering, Harry reached into the pocket of his jeans and fished out the Snitch Dumbledore left him. The tiny golden ball sprouted a pair of wings, as if it had read his thoughts, and zoomed out of his hand. He took off after it, grinning widely the whole time.

It soon turned into a game of catch and release, lasting for several hours. The sun was starting to set when he realized he wasn't alone.

Hermione was sitting on one of the few remaining stands, watching him. He glided over to her, and was surprised to see that she was in her Hogwarts robes. Her arms were folded, her legs crossed, and it brought to mind the many instances that she had scolded him for staying out on the Quidditch pitch too long. She'd be in a very similar position, with a reproachful expression, and a lengthy lecture about curfew and homework and things like that.

Her lips were quirked up into a wry smile as he landed and sat next to her. "Figures you'd be out here," she said. "You always did spend too much playing Quidditch."

"Yeah, well," he laughed, then added, gesturing to her attire, "It seems I'm not the only one taking a trip down Memory Lane."

She blushed, and smoothed the pleated skirt with her hands. "Yes," she mumbled, not meeting his eye. "Well, I just... I wanted to remember... how it used to be."

Harry smiled empathetically. "Same here," he admitted, then frowned. "How long have you been out here?"

"Er..." Her blush deepened. "Just... about as long as you have."

His eyes grew wide. "You have? Why?"

She sighed. "I was in my old dormitory, and I grabbed some extra robes and put them on. And then I looked out the window, and I saw you walking here, so I... I sort of followed you..." She trailed off, her cheeks now a brilliant scarlet.

"You followed me?" he teased her.

"I was just curious," she insisted. "And... I thought you might like some company."

"So why didn't you say something?"

"By the time I got here, you were already out there," she gestured toward the open arena with a wave of her hand, "and you had that look on your face."

His brow furrowed. "What look?"

"That look where you're the happiest you've ever been, and you feel like you're unstoppable, because you know you're where you belong." She smiled at him. "I've only seen that look once when you weren't on a broomstick."

"When was that?"

Hermione glanced away, her face going red again. "Erm... when we danced."

It was Harry's turn to blush. He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at her. "I, um... yeah. That was fun."

She laughed softly. "It was exactly what I needed at that moment. And I don't think I ever got around to thanking you, so... thank you."

Harry felt a warm hand come over his. He swallowed thickly, struggling to control his overactive hormones, but eventually managed to offer a shaky smile. The shakiness eased as he watched her. She was gazing out at the setting sun, the colors of dusk making her hair glisten, and her skin seemed to glow. He was suddenly struck with an idea. Grinning broadly, he turned his hand around, clasping hers. "Come with me," he whispered.

In a moment, he was on his broom, and she was in front of him. "Harry, you know how I feel about heights," she said, her voice full of trepidation.

"We won't be in the air very long. And I'll go slow."

Though she didn't seem entirely satisfied, she relented, and he took off. She gave a squeak of fear, shrinking back against him. Harry secured an arm around her waist, his heart practically running a marathon beneath his ribcage. He just hoped that she couldn't feel it.

A few minutes later, he landed on a hilltop in the midst of the forest, from which they could see the castle, the lake, and the sunset. Hermione gave a quiet gasp of appreciation, her eyes wide as she took in the spectacle. Unabashedly, Harry kept his eyes on her, watching her with wonder and admiration.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

Harry swallowed. "Yes," he said quietly, not talking about the sunset.

She turned to face him, smiling. "Thanks for bringing me here."

He smiled in return. "Thank _you_," he said, "for always being there."

"You're welcome."

They were silent for a few moments, Hermione watching the sunset, Harry watching Hermione. Finally, he decided it was now or never.

"Hermione?"

She looked at him. "Yes, Harry?"

With a deep breath, he closed the gap between them, gently pressing his lips to hers. Barely a second later, he started to pull away quickly, not wanting to push things, but he was surprised as a pair of hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer. And then, she was kissing him back. _Really_ kissing him. Harry's heart pounded in his ears, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

Several minutes later, the need for air drew them apart. His hold on her loosened, and her arms lowered to his sides. Their foreheads rested against each other, and they were quiet for a long time, listening to the sound of one another's breathing, and trying to calm their racing hearts.

"Wow," Hermione breathed at last.

"Yeah," Harry sighed, swallowing for about the tenth time. "Wow." He suddenly felt very self conscious, and afraid of ruining their friendship. "We should get back to the castle," he muttered, and tried to move away, but was stopped when she closed her fists around his robes, pulling him back. He almost knocked her over, grabbing her waist again to steady himself. "What—" he began, but she interrupted him.

"I didn't say I was ready to move," she grinned, pressing her forehead to his again.

"But... what about Ron?" Harry asked.

She gave a subtle shake of the head. "It would never work. I love someone else."

Harry felt a surge of warmth. "All right. We can stay... for a while."

They stood like that for a few minutes, whispering to one another, and stealing the occasional kiss. Finally, when the sky was a deep cerulean, and they were starting to shiver from the cold, they went inside, walking hand in hand. Halfway toward the Great Hall, Harry stopped suddenly. Hermione turned to him, frowning.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

He turned to her. "I don't want to go in there. They'll be all over me in a second."

She smiled sympathetically. "We don't have to. We could just... wander around the castle for a little while."

Harry instantly perked up at that idea. He nodded once, and they turned away from the Great Hall. Neither of them noticed the two redheads that exited the Hall at the same time, and stared with wide eyes at the sight before them. The younger of the two sprinted away, sobbing hysterically. The elder was resigned; he'd seen it coming for a long time now. With a sigh, he went to find his sister.

"Hermione?" Harry spoke as they walked along the corridor.

"Hmm?"

"Are you happy?"

She smiled brightly at him. "Unquestionably."

"Me too."

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><p>AN: The end. I got this idea from a picture I saw on deviantart. com. If you want to see it, I've posted it as my avatar on my profile. Also, since I can't post links on here, you can go to the website and search "Harry and Hermione" (be sure to put the quotes around it). It's the one by blueabyss17404, "Harry and Hermione (in Scraps)." _Beautiful_ picture. Anyways, please leave a review!


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